Tuesday, 3 September 2013

Release Day Book Blitz-Only Between Us By Mila Ferrera (Excerpt + Giveaway)

About The Book

Only Between Us

Author:Mila Ferrera

Publication Date:September 3rd 2013

Genres:Contemporary,New Adult,Romance

Last semester, Romy escaped from an abusive relationship with the guy she’d thought was the man of her dreams. This semester she’s putting herself back together, determined to reclaim her passion for art and for life. When she signs up for a painting class at the local art co-op, the possibility of passion becomes very real -- in the form of her teacher, Caleb. Both mysterious and seriously hot, Caleb bares his soul on his canvases, and Romy’s fascinated by what she sees.

Caleb is just trying to keep his head above water. Caring for his traumatized, unstable sister is getting harder every day, and his paintings are so dark and bleak that no one is buying. Teaching classes at the co-op is no longer enough, and now he’s going to have to sell more than just his art to the wealthy, sex-starved women in his classes. But when Romy comes along, she makes everything more complicated. She sees the truth in his paintings -- a truth no one else has realized, until now.

Romy and Caleb might have a real shot together -- one that could heal them both. But when ghosts from their pasts re-emerge, determined to keep them apart, will they be strong enough to hold on to each other?

Mila Ferrera lives in New England, where she has a family and a job and does various normal, everyday things, all while plotting novels in her head. She has a passion for writing new adult/adult romance featuring psychological twists and tortured heroes. Her own psychology internship involved plenty of consultation, but alas, no sexy Swedish doctors, and her decision to make one up is what sparked her self-publishing adventures. She's the author of SPIRAL (available now), ONLY BETWEEN US (9/3/13), and EVERYTHING BETWEEN US (11/5/13).

The
stairs creak and we look up to see a guy coming down the steps. He looks to be
in his mid-twenties, maybe a few years older than I am, and he moves with the
careless grace of an athlete.

“Holy
hotness,” breathes Jude, mimicking my thoughts perfectly. It’s not that I’m on
the prowl, but in this life, there are a few objective truths, and this guy’s
attractiveness is one of them. His jeans hang from his lean hips and are
stained with paint. A similarly decorated t-shirt clings to his frame, and
there’s a smear of blue on his tanned, muscular forearm. He has chin-length,
chocolate brown hair, but he’s pulled some of it away from his face in a
partial ponytail high on the back of his head. And that gives us a perfect view
of his wolf-gray eyes, which skate over us with mild interest as he descends
the stairs and walks toward us.

“A little.” That’s a lie. I minored
in art in college, and painting was my passion. Until last year. I was
passionate about a lot of things until last year, actually.

He
smiles, and it’s as warm as his skin and steals my breath. “You look nervous,
Romy. You don’t have to be. This is supposed to be fun.”

From Caleb’s perspective:

Romy’s
cheeks turn a shade of pink that twists my thoughts into all kinds of forbidden
shapes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve just met this woman. She’s one
of my students, not some horny sorority girl in a dark club. But I’ve been
having trouble prying my eyes from her since the moment I saw her. She’s really
cute, with short, reddish brown hair, big green eyes, and a tight little body,
not to mention the delicate ink-work of a tattoo on her wrist. I want to slide
up her sleeve and see what it says. But there’s something wounded about her,
too, something that warns me not to get close. When I found her up here in my
space, though, staring at my latest failure like she wanted to run her hands
over it, it made me feel jittery and tense.

I catch up with her as she heads for
the stairs. “I’m glad you liked my painting.”

Her posture melts a little. “Don’t
destroy it. It’s exquisite.”

I feel her words behind my ribs,
deeper inside than I should. “I was … just experimenting with something,” I
mumble. “I never know what’s going to work out.” I poured my soul onto that
canvas. And she saw it. She wanted to
touch it.

Her smile is faint but sweet. “It’s
working out. Go with it.”

“You know a lot more about painting
than a beginner would.” I knew it from the moment I saw that dented toolbox of
hers. She’s not like those women downstairs, who spread the word to their
friends and come on Tuesday evenings to stare at my ass, like I’m the
attraction instead of the joy of painting, of creating something from pigment
and canvas. But Romy … the way she looked at her paints and brushes … it was
like they were a means to salvation, and I totally get that.

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About Me

Daydreamer and self-proclaimed artist, I've always been in love with the future, sincere people and souls that match the subdued craziness that can be found inside me. Whenever I have free time, I read what I'm in the mood to read, I write the things that I cannot say out loud and I draw the ones that are too vivid to remain caged in the confines of my mind.